Date: Fri, 18 Aug 2000 17:28:59 EDT
From: Gabriella Morrison
Subject: My Surprise Romance 40-42
Hi y'all!!!!
Well, it's been a week--and I'm back with another installment of MSR...this
installment is very long and while I'm not exactly happy with it, this is
the best I can do =) But judging from the e-mails that I've received from
the copy I've posted on my webpage, the response has been
positive...so....tell me what you think of this part by sending me an
e-mail at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Feedback, good or bad, is always
welcomed...always!
A big thank you to everyone who's written me over the past few days. Thank
you, thank you, thank you! Plus, a big thank you to my usual crew of
people...whom I'm way too lazy to name. All I'm saying is, you know who you
are--and thank you for all of your support. I couldn't be writing this
story without you...I love you all...*MUAH*
I'm not sure if I'm too late to say this, but please go and vote in the boy
band awards if you still can. While I don't care if you vote for me or not
(it would be nice, but hey--Colleen theory in effect here), it would be
great if you showed your support for all of the authors who write these
stories. Okay, I'm done here--stepping off my soapbox...
And finally...please go and visit my baby...my website...I put a lot of
time in it, and while you might not be entertained...it's a good way to
waste some time! So....here's the addy:
http://sweetheart.homepage.com
And lastly--did anyone see Lance on TRL on Thursday and Friday????
Lordy.... ::swooning:: Does he know the effect he has on people? Yeesh....
**A big thank you to Cele for the pictures and the David and DC for the
Mississippi info**
DISCLAIMER: I don't know Lance. I don't know Lance's family. I don't know
implying his sexuality in real life. I don't know *NSYNC. All I do know is
that this story involves a m/m relationship and that you have to be 18/21
years old to read it...ahem, certain people out there whom I'm not going to
name....and now.....
My Surprise Romance
The Better to Dream of You
Chapter 40
Going Home
Lance and I had decided to take a red-eye flight to Mississippi, instead of
waiting for the sun to come up and leave the next morning. That way, we
figured, there wouldn't be that many people milling around the airport who
would notice that a member of `N Sync was taking a flight like so many of
us civilians did everyday.
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Lance asked uncertainly, as we boarded
the first class section of the airplane. He had obviously noticed my
death-white face, and the sheen of sweat that had broken out across my
forehead. "I know how you hate airplanes."
"Very good," I answered evenly, as I attempted to take a couple of deep
even breaths. After shoving our on-flight bags in the overhead compartment,
Lance and I took our seats and sat there not saying a word. I attempted to
push my airplane phobia aside by choosing to examine the on-flight reading
materials that were in front of me. My gaze roamed across the numerous
periodicals and a grin formed on my lips as a certain boy-band cover caught
my eye. There was `N Sync, posing for the camera and laughing like they
were having the time of their lives.
"Well, lookie lookie who's on the cover," I said in an observant singsong
voice as I pulled the magazine out of the stack and showed it to
Lance. "It's bad enough that I see one member all the time." I attempted to
sound as exasperated as I could, but ruined it by allowing a peal of
laughter escape from my lips.
"Give me that!" Lance exclaimed as he snatched the magazine out of my
grasp. "How dare you make fun of these guys! They're musical geniuses!!" He
hugged the magazine to his chest and stuck his lower lip out at me, before
deciding to flip through the glossy pages.
"Hey, these are from the photo shoot during our last day in Los Angeles,"
Lance remarked, as he examined the layout pictures. "You wanna know how I
can tell?"
"How?" I asked, as a few more people began to board the plane. Distracted,
we watched the passengers take their seats for a couple of seconds before
Lance looked back at me, flashing me a shy grin.
"Because of this," Lance said, pointing to a specific part of the
picture. "Look." As I leaned in closer, my eyes made out my father's silver
ID bracelet that encircled Lance's wrist. It was present in every photo.
"Aww, that's sweet," I sighed as I looked up at Lance. A faint blush fell
over his cheeks as I smiled at him.
"I don't leave home without it," he quipped as he shook his wrist at me,
causing the bracelet to rattle. I couldn't help but laugh. I'll tell you
this much, Lance made a world of difference in my life. And then I suddenly
felt the plane move. My relaxed body stiffened at the sudden movement and
Lance looked at my reaction with worry.
"Stephen, are you gonna be okay?" he asked as he took hold of one of my
shaking hands. Instead of being grateful at his sweet gesture, I shook it
off, opting to grip the armrests of my chair instead. As I expected, a
somewhat shocked look appeared on Lance's face.
"Lance...it's not that I don't want you to hold onto my hand," I managed to
say in a low voice, so that no one would hear. "I just don't want anyone to
see..." Even through my terror, I was still thinking about Lance's public
image. He had done enough for me, and the last thing I needed was for him
was to be found out by prying eyes just because I couldn't handle a simple
airline flight.
Lance shook his head at me, and pried my hand from it's super glue grip on
the armrest. "I. Don't. Care." He said shortly as he took my hand in his
again, and gave me a smile. "You look like you're about to pass out...and
you know I worry about you, Stephen." He gently squeezed my hand, like he
had done so many other times, but this time it was different. I don't know
what made it so different, but it was. I could tell.
His actions had a surprising effect on my shaky demeanor. Instantly, my
heartbeat slowed down, my breathing returned to normal and my body stopped
shaking a little. I swallowed a couple of times and then watched as the
`fasten seat belt' sign clicked off.
I turned to Lance and gave him a relieved smile. "Thanks," I said a little
sheepishly, as I undid the buckle around my waist. Lance stared at me for a
moment, love clearly evident in his eyes as he watched me do this.
"Feel better?" he asked softly as he dropped his hand down to my thigh, and
stroked it lightly through the material of my jeans with his thumb.
"Much. Thanks, Lance," I said and I couldn't help but grin at his
touch. `Trust my boyfriend to make everything all better', I thought as I
suddenly forgot that I was on an airplane. In public. I began to lean
towards Lance, ready to place a kiss on his lips, when a voice shook me
back to reality.
"Can I get you gentlemen anything?" The stewardess stood next to us, with
her food and beverage cart in tow. She looked like one of those kewpie
dolls, made up with loads of cosmetics and hair sprayed into such a helmet,
I'm surprised that the ozone layer hadn't been destroyed that morning. Her
perky, grating voice had shattered any romantic notions in my mind, as I
jerked my head in her direction. I noticed her looking at the two of us
strangely, as her eyes zeroed in on Lance's hand on my thigh.
"Uhh, is it possible for me to get a glass of water?" I asked, trying to
distract her probing gaze. She nodded and began to busy herself with
pouring my drink, while I quickly knocked Lance's hand off my leg and gave
him a knowing look.
"Here you go sir," the stewardess said as she handed me my water. "Anything
else? How about you sir?" she asked Lance with that same suspicious
stare. Lance just shook his head at her as he folded his hands over his
lap, and stared straight ahead until she wheeled her cart off to the next
group of people.
"Whew, that was close," I whispered once she was out of earshot. "You have
to learn to control yourself in public, Mr. Bass."
"Me?!!?" Lance exclaimed, pointing to his chest. His voice dropped a couple
of notches to speak the next words. "Hey, I'm not the one who was about to
give me a kiss! Not that I'm complaining," he added with a mischievous
grin.
"Mmmmm, I guess you have a point there." As I took a sip of my water, the
talkative person next to me suddenly grew silent. I looked at Lance, only
to find him staring out the airplane window. He was nervously drumming his
fingers on his kneecap, and humming softly under his breath.
"Lance...you okay?" I asked softly, as he turned his head back in my
direction. To my surprise, the happy-go-lucky expression that had been
present on Lance's face only seconds ago, was now replaced with an uneasy
one. He hesitated speaking for a few seconds, but he didn't even need to
say a word. I knew Lance well enough to know that he was worried about
going home.
"Umm, yeah...I guess," he stammered, unable to completely lie. "Aww, who
the hell am I kidding, Stephen?" He looked disgusted with himself. "I'm
scared shitless to go home. I don't want to...I mean, I know I have to, but
I'm just scared how the rest of my family will take it."
"So don't tell them," I said a bit recklessly, making it sound like I
didn't care. Lance looked at me with surprised green eyes and I quickly
corrected myself. "What I mean is, you have to be comfortable with telling
them. I didn't mean to sound so careless...I just don't want you to think
that I'm pressuring you into doing this just so you can get your family to
help me out."
Lance shook his head firmly, and let out a sigh. "No, Stephen..I was the
one who offered to help you out. You're not pressuring me at all, it's just
that I'm unsure how my dad will be when I tell him. I was surprised that my
mother took it so well...I was positive that she was going to tell me I was
gonna burn in hell, you know?"
"Or act like my mom?" I offered gently, causing Lance to look up at me,
with slightly glassy eyes. He nodded in agreement.
"Yup--and now after what I saw you go through--well, I'm petrified," Lance
lamented, looking down at his hands. "I love my parents--I love my dad...I
don't know, I'm so confused..." He shook his head a couple of times and
then turned back to the window. I felt terrible. Lance was so
despondent...so unlike his normal self, that it hurt to even look at him. I
had no clue to how I could help him. I wanted to tell Lance that everything
was gonna be okay...that there was nothing to worry about, but I didn't
want to lie to him. But sometimes...I knew you just needed to hear those
words, even if they are lies. `You just need to hear them', I thought as
the overhead lights began to dim around us so that the on-flight movie
could start.
"Lance," I spoke up softly, reaching for his hand. He turned to look at me
once more, except that this time, a couple of tears were running down his
face. He was scared. And while I couldn't say I knew exactly how he felt,
I think I had a pretty good approximation. My heart broke in two as I
looked at him. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." My fingers closed around
his hand as I held it, hoping that he knew how much I wanted to wrap my
arms around him at that moment.
A smile crossed his lips and I knew that Lance understood. "Thanks,
Stephen," he whispered. "I love you." I bit my lip, to hold back the
emotion that I felt. I wasn't sure what was coursing through me
then...love, anger, happiness...everything...so I just answered Lance with
the only words I felt fit at that moment.
"I love you too."
The plane landed without much difficulty (Thank God), and I managed to
resume a calm exterior as Lance and I got up from our seats and removed our
bags from the overhead compartment. To the observer, I looked relaxed and
composed, as if I didn't have a care in the world. But on the inside I was
shaking worse than a bowl of jello being poked by third graders at
lunchtime. And if you thought that *that* was nervous, you didn't see
Lance. His face was paler than it usually was as we shuffled slowly out of
the plane and down the terminal. We didn't speak to each other, instead
opting to walk in wordless silence, as though Lance and I sunk into a
dimension where only we existed. The other passengers that walked around us
seemed nonexistent, separated from our reality. They were happy, while in
comparison Lance and I, looked as though we were being led to our deaths.
I looked over at Lance once more, knowing that these few minutes would be
our last moments alone, before we would be constantly surrounded by his
family.
"Lance," I said, suddenly stopping in my tracks as this thought came over
me. My boyfriend halted when he heard me speak, and turned to face me.
"What?" Lance asked a bit irritably as the expression on his face grew more
and more nervous with each second that ticked by. His hands clutched the
handles of his bags so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. He
shuffled his feet a couple of times, not able to stand still. "Stephen,
*what*?" Lance's voice was curt with impending tension as he just stared at
me with a moody expression on his face. I stepped closer to him, face to
face, so that the next words that I would speak would only be between us.
"Lance...remember, no matter what happens with your family, I still love
you." I paused. Truthful words were hard to say, no matter how many times I
had said them, I thought to myself before continuing. "You've become my
best friend...and I can't imagine my life without you in it," I spoke
somewhat bashfully. "Thank you for everything you've done for me so far."
A radiant look crossed Lance's face, as my words hit the air that hung
between us. "Thank you Stephen," he remarked, his eyes sparkling with
emotion. And with that, he grabbed me in a hug, not caring who was around
to see. It felt good to feel his arms around me...I felt stronger whenever
he touched me and I wondered if it felt like that for him whenever I held
him. When I pulled back from his embrace, the look on his face answered my
question for me. And I knew why. We needed to do that. We needed to hold on
to each other because at that moment, Lance and I were the only two people
in the world who truly understood each other.
"I'm so glad I found you, Stephen," Lance whispered as we stared at each
other. His green eyes gazed into mine and I swore that like so many times
before, Lance could see directly into my soul. Tearing his eyes away from
mine, Lance looked around us and let out a small laugh. We had become so
lost in each other, we never noticed that the terminal had cleared out
quite some time ago, and that we were the only two left in there. A happy
smile appeared on Lance's face as he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on
my lips.
"I'm feeling a little better now, Stephen," Lance murmured after we parted,
his eyes downcast for a moment. The happy smile faded and he forced himself
to give me a halfhearted one, despite the worry that was still evident in
his eyes. "Come on, we have to go meet my mom." Lance muttered abruptly,
the smile completely disappearing from his lips. He turned away from me and
began his decent towards the inside of the airport. I watched his
retreating figure for a few seconds and heaved a sigh. I knew that there
was going to be problems. I would be an idiot not to think that there
wouldn't be. I wasn't that naive. Look at my life....
I followed Lance out into the waiting section of the airport and
immediately saw his mother standing there in the middle of an empty
section, looking more than a little nervous. But once she saw Lance, a huge
smile broke out on her face and she began waving her arms like a maniac.
"Lance!" she exclaimed happily as he rushed over and wrapped his arms
around his mother. "I've missed you so much!" They held each other for a
few seconds, while I stood back, watching Lance and his mother reunite.
And as I watched them, a wave of admitted jealously swept over me, right
before a fresh wave of shame followed it. I shouldn't have felt that way,
yet seeing Diane accept Lance with open arms, only forced my mind to recall
the horrible way that my own mother treated me. Coercing myself to pay
attention to Lance, my mind snapped out my miserable thoughts. He had
stepped away from his mother as Diane turned to face me, smiling as she
stepped towards me.
"Hello again, Stephen," Diane welcomed me warmly, her arms outstretched as
she wrapped my body in a hug. Shock coursed throughout me briefly, before I
relaxed and placed my arms gingerly around her.
"Hello, Mrs. Bass," I greeted her politely before she pulled away from me.
"Remember, Diane," she reminded me with a smile, while giving me a somewhat
critical once over. Her eyes landed on my still-bandaged hand. "Oh my, what
happened there?" I noticed that her voice was filled with that somewhat
heavy southern accent, as she lifted my hand and examined it. I cringed at
the question she had asked, and felt my face turn hot with
embarrassment. What was I going to say? `Well, Diane...I got really angry
one night and nearly punched your son in the face'? I thought fast.
"I cut myself," I said somewhat lamely, pulling my hand away from her
grasp. My eyes quickly shifted to where Lance was standing, where he
acknowledged my lie with a wan smile. "How have you been, Diane?" I asked,
ready to change the subject.
Diane's eyes opened up somewhat larger than normal and my question seemed
to have floored her. Even Lance noticed his mother's odd reaction and gave
her a quizzical look while she answered me. "I've been doing well,
Stephen--thanks for asking." (I would learn later on from Lance, that I had
impressed Diane by taking the time to ask how she was. According to Lance,
none of his old girlfriends had ever asked his mother things like that, so
I assumed that my question had scored major brownie points with her) "In
fact, I've--"
"Should we get our luggage?" Lance suddenly broke in abruptly from where he
was standing. Diane looked at her son, a bit boggled by his rude
behavior. Not wanting to start a fight, I nodded wordlessly and began
walking in the direction of where the luggage pick up was. Diane and Lance
walked in back of me, and I could hear her firing questions at him in a low
voice--so I wouldn't hear, I guess.
"Lance...why did you want to come home on such short notice....not that I
mind one bit, but why? And Stephen..." I heard her trail off, as I slowed
my pace and dropped into step with them. When I looked over, I saw Lance
staring at his mother with an even gaze as we came to the luggage pick up
area. Not answering Diane, Lance just stood there, waiting for our
suitcases to rotate past us. Once they came through and we had them, Lance
turned back to his mother and let out a long, sad sigh.
"Mom...there's a *lot* I have to tell you....is dad home?" he asked. I
noticed that his voice began to shake once he spoke the word, `dad'. Lance
gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter as he waited for his mother's
answer. Maternal instincts kicking in, Diane immediately noticed the
melancholy look on her son's face.
"Lance, what's wrong? Tell me, please...I'm your mother, you can tell me
anything..." she begged him, worry breaking out on every inch of her
face. "You sounded so strange on the phone when you called me this
afternoon..." Lance sighed again and ran a hand through his short hair, not
knowing what to do with his fidgety hands.
"Mom..I'll tell you in the car, okay?" Lance asked her and she nodded,
knowing that she would have to be satisfied with that answer. Diane would
have to be, because for the remainder of the time we spent in the airport,
Lance remained silent. He kept his lips pressed together in a thin line,
and tried to keep his poker face, although I could see the worry growing in
his eyes as the minutes flew by.
I looked at my watch. It was late--a little past two a.m.--and once we
walked out into the airport parking lot, the hot, muggy night air that
blanketed Mississippi, hit me full force. It was like a slap in the face
and I fought to pull up my breath causing Diane to notice my reaction to
the weather.
"It's very hot down here, Stephen," she explained, with a kind smile on her
lips. "Where are you from again? I don't recall you saying where you were
from." I blinked in surprise at how interested Diane managed to sound. She
was really nice, I thought wistfully, as I continued to push thoughts of my
deceased mother out of my mind.
"New York--a little town called Ridgemont," I told Diane as she led us to a
forest green colored car that was parked under a bright parking lot
light. "It's a couple of hours from Rochester."
"So you're probably used to cooler weather in the summer, right?" Diane
asked, as she fished a set of car keys from her purse. She looked at me,
waiting for an answer while she unlocked the trunk for Lance and I to throw
our suitcases into. I briefly looked over at Lance, and noticed that he was
staring off into space, not caring one bit about the conversation that I
was having with his mother. As I turned back to answer Diane's question, I
noticed that she was intently watching her son place his suitcase in the
trunk.
"A little," I admitted. "The summers *are* kinda brutal...but I'm not sure
if they're any match for here. I'm not sure I can handle Mississippi
weather." I placed my suitcase on top of Lance's, and turned to find him
watching our conversation with interest. Diane laughed as she slammed the
trunk shut and walked over to unlock the passenger side doors for us. I
crawled into the backseat, while Lance took the front seat. Once we were
alone, Lance twisted himself around to talk to me.
"She likes you Stephen," he said as he managed to muster up a grin. "She's
never made small talk with *any* of my old girlfriends before."
"Maybe it's because I'm not a girl," I quipped as Diane unlocked her door
and slid into the car. Lance immediately turned back around in his seat,
facing forward and the car grew silent. Diane slammed her door shut and
then pressed a button on the ceiling of the car, flooding the dark space
with light. I blinked a couple of times, my eyes unaccustomed to the sudden
brightness, as Diane turned to face her son.
"Okay, Lance...spill it," she said a bit curtly. "What is the matter with
you? I want to know and we're not leaving this parking lot until you tell
me." Needless to say, I wasn't the only one stunned by the sudden change
in Diane's demeanor. She had gone from happy to serious in a matter of
minutes. Suddenly it dawned on me that Lance's mother wasn't all sweetness
and light--not when it came to her son, anyways. She stared at him with a
mixture of anger and concern. Meeting her eyes, Lance raised his head like
a little boy about to be reprimanded and then instantly broke down.
"Oh honey," Diane said, her face turning pale at Lance's sudden
outburst. "I didn't mean to sound so angry...I'm just so worried about
you...what's wrong?" Lance looked up at her and quickly wiped the tears
away, embarrassed by his sudden display of emotions. He turned his head to
look at me briefly, before turning back to face his mother.
"Mom...it's has to do with Stephen..." Diane looked at me then, confusion
appearing on her face, but Lance rushed on before she could ask any
questions. "See, Stephen's mom...his mom..." Lance stammered, not able to
get the words out. It wasn't up to Lance to tell her, I thought as I broke
into the conversation.
"My mother killed herself, " I blurted out from my place in the back, not
wanting to watch Lance struggle anymore. Diane turned to me, a look of
horror and shock on her pretty face. I bet that wasn't something that she
expected to hear.
"She what?!" Diane exclaimed, placing a hand to her mouth. "Oh,
Stephen..I'm so sorry to hear that..." She shook her head at me, rendered
speechless by my announcement. "I don't know what to say.."
"Nothing," I answered, a grim smile forming on my lips. "It's not your
fault at all, so please don't apologize. Lance...do you want me to tell
her?" He shook his head at me, as he reached for a box of tissues that sat
on the dashboard and took one from the box.
"No...it was my idea," Lance said as he blew his nose. "My idea..I'll tell
her."
"What?" Diane asked, clearly confused at the conversation we were
having. "Lance, just tell me already."
He looked at his mother. "Mom...Stephen's mom wrote him out of the
will...she left him penniless and possibly homeless. He can challenge the
will, but he has no money. So it was my idea to come home--I came up with
this idea...I thought that maybe Uncle Jeff could help Stephen out by
looking over the will for him...for free." Once Lance finished his little
speech, he took a much needed breath and then turned back to me and smiled
weakly before turning back to his mother, waiting for an answer.
Diane sat there in silence, not sure what to exactly say. A funny look
crossed her face, and she looked as though she was about to say
something. She paused thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and then finally
spoke.
"Lance...you know if you want your Uncle to help you out, you're going to
have to tell him and your father. And Stacey." Lance's face went pale at
the mention of his family, and he began to tremble slightly as his mother
continued on. "Lance...do you know how keeping your secret has been on me?"
Diane asked wearily as she briefly closed her eyes.
Lance stared at his mother. "What do you mean?" he asked her carefully, not
wanting to aggravate her in anyway. She just sighed, shaking her head
wearily.
"Lance...I think your father knows that I'm keeping something from
him...he's been asking me questions since I came back from Los Angeles when
you fell..and to be honest with you, I don't know what to tell him. I've
never kept a secret from Jim in my entire life, except for this. And it's
killing me."
"Mom...I'm sorry," Lance began to apologize, but Diane cut him off with a
wave of her hand, determined to speak her two cents.
"No, Lance...please don't apologize. I understand that you want to tell
your father on your own terms, but you know that you have to tell him
sometime. I just want to make that clear with you." Diane paused
again. "And you'll have to explain what Stephen is doing here--I'm not sure
if Jim will understand. And you know that Uncle Jeff might not either..."
Her last words trailed off, and Lance and I both got the message she was
sending--`He might not want to help you once he finds out.' I knew what she
meant. Lance knew what she meant. We weren't stupid. There was a good
chance that Lance's announcement could alienate him from the rest of his
family. And there was a good possibility of that happening--which also
meant that I could kiss any chance of his family helping me out, good-bye.
"I know, mom," Lance nodded, his voice serious. "But I want to tell
dad...I...I can't keep the fact that I'm...gay..." he spoke haltingly as he
watched his mother flinch slightly at the word. "...from dad and Stace and
everyone forever, right?"
"Right," Diane agreed with a somewhat tight smile, as she stuck the keys in
the ignition. "I don't know when you're going to tell your father, Lance,
but I hope it's soon." Diane started up the car and pulled the transmission
into drive. I sat there, in the backseat, suddenly feeling as though I
wasn't part of this anymore--I felt like I was watching some sort of
film--one of Diane and Lance...
"Mom?" Lance spoke up, as Diane began driving the car out of the airport
parking lot. "What do you think dad will say?" His voice had come out quiet
and soft, the same way that the voice of a scared child would.
Diane was silent for a few seconds, as she concentrated on the traffic in
front of her. A couple of seconds passed by as she drove down the road,
stopping at a light, before turning onto the thruway. Finally, she answered
her son.
"Lance...I don't know," Diane said a bit ominously, not taking her eyes off
the road in front of her. And then the car grew eerily quiet, except for
the hum of the engine and the tires on the road.
We had arrived at the Bass residence a little while later. I was tired, but
the knots bunching up in my stomach were tight enough to keep me up the
entire car ride. Lance spent the duration of the ride, nibbling on what was
left of his fingernails and staring out the window. I watched as the
landscape around me went from city to a more rural setting. As the town
flashed by, I noticed kudzu growing everywhere. It really was a small
town--different from my hometown as well as all of the cities that I had
visited when I was on tour with `N Sync. And then I could understand why
Lance was freaking out. The ideals of this small town weren't as open as
the big cities we had experienced. There was a completely different state
of mind here. And maybe that's why Lance's face once again paled as Diane
pulled into the driveway and parked the car. We were home now--there was no
escaping what was soon to be the inevitable. Diane turned back to Lance as
she unbuckled her seat belt.
"Good to be back home?" she asked her son as she tried to keep her voice
upbeat. Lance nodded wordlessly and busied himself by unbuckling his seat
belt as well.
Diane got out of the car and slammed her door, making her way to the trunk
leaving Lance and I alone. I could hear him muttering unintelligible words
under his breath as we were about to get out of the car.
"You okay, Lance?" I asked from my place in the back, observing my
boyfriend's distress.
"Fine," he muttered as he swung open his door. "I'm just peachy."
"Cut the sarcasm," I shot back, feeling a bit grumpy myself. The words had
come out a bit harsher than I had intended. I was worried and tired--not a
good combination. And then I looked at Lance. He was staring at me, a bit
rattled by the sharpness of my voice. And I felt terrible. I hadn't meant
to be nasty towards him...I loved him. I was just a bit high-strung. I had
learned to prepare myself for the worst--and this was no exception. From
Diane's tentative behavior in the car before, to the fact that we were only
a couple of feet from Lance's father, Lance and I were both a bit edgy. And
then I realized that I just wanted to hug my boyfriend right then and
there. And if Diane weren't standing in back of the car, taking out our
suitcases, I would have. `Like that would make everything better', I
thought bitterly as I pulled myself out of the backseat of the car, walked
over to Diane and took my suitcases from her.
"Thank you," I said, as she handed mine to me. She gave me a brief smile,
and I could tell from that smile alone that she didn't hate me. She wasn't
exactly crazy about the fact that I was her son's boyfriend, but she liked
me and respected me and to tell you the truth, that alone was good enough
for me.
"You're welcome," Diane returned as Lance walked over and took his suitcase
from her. He began walking up the sidewalk that led to the house and Diane
and I followed him. Just then the front door swung open and a blonde haired
man, (who I should add here, looked an awful lot like Lance) stood there
with a big grin on his face.
"James! Welcome back home, son! It's about time!" Lance's father greeted
him. Lance walked up the steps, grinning despite the internal feelings that
was still lurking around inside of him.
"Hey dad," Lance said, as he walked into the house and dropped his
suitcase. "I'm back--for only a couple of days--but I'm back." He looked
around, a genuine grin on his face, as he examined the hallway around
him. "Just like I remember--it really feels good to be home again."
Diane and I followed Lance into the house and I watched as Diane greeted
her husband with a kiss. "Hi...I'm back," she told Jim, as she strode into
the living room, dropping her purse on the couch. She disappeared into the
kitchen, while I continued to stand there in the hallway, feeling like a
complete oddball. I had no idea what to do or say until Lance's father
glanced briefly at me before doing a double take.
"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, staring at me with a look of surprise
on his face. I felt my face turn the color of a strawberry, and I
attempted to stammer out some kind of answer, before Lance (Thank God for
Lance) saved me.
"Dad...this is Stephen Peterson...he worked on the tour with us and we
became pretty good friends," Lance explained, his cheeks turning slightly
pink once the word `friends' left his mouth. `Oh, we were friends', I
thought trying not to smirk. `Really, really good friends who happened to
sleep together.' I couldn't help thinking this. I have a knack for thinking
inappropriate things at inappropriate moments sometimes and this was
*definitely* one of them. "I thought he'd want to come down here for a
visit," Lance finished up, sounding a bit defensive.
"Oh," Lance's father said shortly as his surprised expression began to
fade. I guess Lance's explanation sounded plausible enough, because he
walked over to me and shook my hand.
"Good to meet you Stephen..." he trailed off as he peered closely at
me. "You look familiar...ah, I know where I saw you before." He snapped his
fingers. "You were the person next to Lance when he fell on stage in Los
Angeles. I remember seeing that in the paper."
I nodded, letting a slight sigh of relief escape my lips. "Yes...I
accompanied Lance to the hospital. I met your wife there," I told him,
nodding my head towards Diane, who had briefly reappeared in the living
room once she heard her husband talking. She watched her husband and I
interact closely, before walking back into the kitchen. "It's nice meeting
you, sir."
"Sir?" he looked bemused at my formal greeting. "You can call me Jim, if
you'd like. No formalities needed here." With that, he turned back to his
son, and smiled at him. "Stacey is coming by tomorrow--she really wants to
see you, James. Misses you."
"Oh, yeah?" Lance asked, trying to hide the nervousness in his
voice. "That's good. Haven't seen Stace in awhile...hey dad, I really want
to get to bed. I'm really exhausted...I've been up since seven this
morning."
"Yeah? Doing what? I thought that since you got off the tour, you'd be
sleeping in everyday," Jim quipped, a laugh punctuating his words. But
Lance ignored his question, grabbing his suitcase as he began to walk up
the staircase that led to the second floor. My boyfriend stopped midway,
turning himself back to look at me.
"Stephen? Where you gonna sleep tonight?" Lance called out. I could tell by
the soft expression present in his eyes that he wanted me to sleep with
him, but we both knew that idea was completely out of the question. Hearing
Lance's question, Diane reemerged from the kitchen and looked at her son
standing on the stairs.
"Lance--I fixed up the guest room next to yours for Stephen," Diane called
up to him. "So if you want to show him it and get him settled in..." Her
words trailed off uncomfortably, and judging from the expression on her
face, I assumed that the image of her little boy sleeping with another man
had entered her mind. She turned away from the living room abruptly and
walked into the kitchen once more. Jim watched his wife and then looked at
Lance, puzzled by his entire family's strange behavior.
Clearing his throat to get my attention, Lance jerked his head, indicating
me to follow him. Picking up my suitcase, I followed Lance's lead, noticing
how silent we were as we made our way towards the guest bedroom. Once we
reached it, Lance flipped on the light and looked at me.
"Here's the guest room," he said, as we walked into the simple, yet
elegantly decorated bedroom. I walked over to the bed, placed my suitcase
on top of it and looked back over at my boyfriend, who had relaxed a little
once we were alone. "Hope you like it--even though you'll be sleeping alone
tonight," he added mischievously.
I rolled my eyes at his comment. "Lance...how can you even think of that
now?" I asked in wonder as I sat down on the neatly made bed.
"I don't know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm completely freaking out
on the inside you know....but on the bright side, both of my parents seem
to like you--a lot." A grin replaced the downcast look on his face and I
couldn't help returning it with one of my own.
"Yeah..." I trailed off, not sure what to say. All I could think of was,
`Yeah, Lance's father likes me now...but will he when Lance tells him?' But
I chose to keep those thoughts to myself and opted to change the
subject. "So...how come you never told me to call you James?"
Lance stood there, pondering the question for a brief second, before
shrugging his shoulders at me. "I don't know...it just never seemed to
fit..." Lance flopped on the bed next to me as his words trailed off. "You
know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know...but if you want me to start calling you that, I will," I
told him seriously. Lance shook his head, and made a face like he had
tasted something horrible.
"No! I like when you call me Lance..." he said shyly, running his fingers
along my thigh. "It sounds nice when it comes from your mouth." He gave me
another shaky smile and then leaned towards me, placing a quick kiss on my
lips. I responded to it, but pulled away as quickly as his lips touched
mine. It would have been way too easy to fall into the moment, and as much
as I would have liked to, I was scared.
"You okay?" Lance asked, a bit puzzled by my reaction to his kiss.
"I'm fine," I answered him, surprised by the sound of my heart beating in
my eardrums. "It's just that...I'm not comfortable doing this in your
parents house...does that make sense? It just feels..." I tried to find the
word that I was looking for, "...wrong."
Lance answered me with a smirk and just as he was about to answer me, we
both heard the sound of footsteps walking up the staircase. Lance and I
looked at each other somewhat horrified, not wanting to be caught in the
middle of any suspicious looking behavior. Lance jumped off the bed as
though it were on fire, as he backed himself a few feet away from me.
"Well, I hope you have a good night's sleep Stephen," Lance said loudly as
Jim emerged in the doorway just then. Lance gave me a parting smile, turned
towards the door and nearly flew straight into the air when he saw his
father standing in front of him. "Hi dad," Lance managed to croak out.
"Hey James...Stephen," he said, acknowledging my presence before turning
back to his son. "You wouldn't happen to know why your mother is acting a
little strange, would you?" Under his father's scrutinizing gaze, a blush
began to creep up the side of Lance's neck. He knew why his mother was
acting odd, but he certainly wasn't going to tell his father why. Not now
anyway.
"Nope--maybe she's tired," Lance offered as helpfully as he could, trying
to regain some of his lost composure. "You know how mom gets when she
doesn't get enough sleep."
Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe..I don't know...she's been acting odd ever
since she came back from L.A." Jim shifted his gaze to me and I froze for a
second. I was positive that he somehow knew...maybe he could read between
the lines, I thought with panic. But as quickly as I thought this, Jim
switched his gaze back to Lance.
"Well...I don't know. I'll ask her about it in the morning--I took the day
off from work, you know. I'm going to bed in a little while," Jim said,
brushing his worry off as he turned away from Lance and I. "Good night,
guys--and Stephen?"
I looked up at Lance's father in surprise. "Yes?"
"It was nice meeting you," he said, with a short nod of his head. "See you
guys tomorrow morning." And with that, Jim was gone, disappearing down the
staircase once more. Lance and I remained quiet for a few seconds. And then
Lance walked out of the room, over to the staircase and checked to make
sure that his father was back downstairs and out of earshot, before he
walked towards me.
"Great--he's gonna be around all day tomorrow," Lance muttered under his
breath, taking a seat next to me once more.
"Yup....so...are you gonna tell him then?" I asked Lance hesitantly. I
didn't want him to think that I was pressuring him into spilling his
secret, but I wanted..no, I *needed* to know. Not because I wanted Lance to
ask his uncle about me, if that's was what you were wondering. No, my main
concern was all of the lying that was going on around me. Diane was lying
to her husband, Lance was lying to his father, I was lying to Jim. Lying
made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I had firsthand knowledge of how
lying could destroy relationships and break barriers of trust.
Lance looked at me in surprise. I guess he hadn't expected my question to
be so straightforward, but I had been and I hoped that Lance would answer
me honestly.
"Yeah..." he said slowly, as though it was the first time he had thought of
it. "Stephen...I have to... I don't want to hide you from him anymore. You
mean the world to me...." Lance flashed me a crooked grin. "I know it
sounds corny, but you do...you've changed my life so much, and I want my
dad to know that." He leaned over and placed another kiss on my cheek.
I wanted to say something badly to Lance...the words were fighting to leave
my mouth. I wanted to say, "How sweet" or "Aww, thank you" Something. But I
couldn't. I just wanted to sit there and just stare at his handsome
face. Stare into his magnificent green eyes. I wanted to hold him all
night. No words could express what I was feeling at that moment...nothing.
Lance must have sensed this, because all he did next was take my hand in
his. He slowly began to stroke my fingers over and over as he continued on
with his little speech. "And if everything goes okay, and I'm praying to
God that it will," he said with a clear look of worry in his eyes. "Then I
want to talk to my uncle, so that he can help you out."
My mind began to shift again and the voice in the back of my head started
to speak up once more. I tried to fight it, but it wouldn't shut the hell
up. And so I gave in, and asked Lance the question that had been burning
into my mind for the past few hours or so.
"Lance...if all this stuff wouldn't have happened--with the will and
all--would you have brought me here?" Lance tipped his head sideways, a bit
puzzled by my question. I cleared my throat and decided to ask him, flat
out. I needed to know his answer. "Would you have planned to out yourself
to your father even if nothing had happened with my mother? I mean so soon
after the tour ended? Or would you have waited a little longer?"
Lance didn't flinch at my question, not even for a second. Instead, he
looked straight into my eyes, reached up and began to run his thumb down
the side of my face. "Stephen," he said softly, "The answer to your
question is `yes'. There's no doubt in my mind that I would have dragged
you down here and told my father that I was in love with you. I've wanted
to tell him for ages. I would have told him in that hotel room that one
night, but I just couldn't do it over the phone." He smiled at me. "It
might not be that easy to say to him, but it's the truth. And I'm willing
to face the consequences of what I tell him."
"Really?" I asked timidly, a spot in my heart touched by his words. Lance
nodded and gently kissed my fingertips.
"Yes. I told you, I love you. I'm so proud of you and I want my parents to
know what a wonderful person you are," Lance murmured before leaning over
and kissing me softly. This time, I didn't pull away. We deserved this
little bit of down time together, I thought happily, as I felt Lance's hand
circle around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His tongue
slowly snaked in between my slightly parted lips, and began to gingerly
search my mouth, until I felt the tips of our tongues meet. A small moan
escaped my lips, as Lance's hand began to run down the side of my
neck...who knows how far Lance and I would have taken our kissing...
"Ahem." The short, displeased sound of someone clearing their throat was
more than enough to shake me back to reality. I nearly snapped my neck as I
pulled my mouth away from Lance's, just in time to see Diane watching us
from her spot in the doorway. This was the second time she had caught us
making out, and personally, I think this time was worst than the one in the
hospital. A look of obvious discomfort was written all over Diane's face,
as she stood there, arms folded across her chest, as her eyes averted the
situation in front of her by peering at a spot on the ceiling.
But to our surprise, Diane was pretty cool about catching us. She didn't go
berserk. She didn't start crying. She didn't start screaming. All she did
was give the two of us a somewhat sickly smile, once she could meet our
embarrassed, mortified gazes.
"I just wanted to tell you that I was going to bed. I wanted to say good
night," Diane said softly, as she eyed Lance and I sitting on the bed
together. As I watched the movement of her eyes, I could tell that they
were drawn to the sight of our hands entwined together and just as Lance
was about to let go, Diane held up one of her hands, stopping him. "Lance,
don't. Not on the account of me." I could tell that the scene in front of
her was hard to digest--in her eyes, it was still wrong, disturbing...but
she was open-minded enough to accept us.
I looked back over at Lance to see a smile of relief form on his
lips. "Thanks, mom," he said gratefully, as his fingers wrapped a little
snugger around mine.
"I just stopped in to say goodnight," Diane repeated a bit awkwardly. "And
honey, your father is coming upstairs in a few seconds." She gave us one
last uncomfortable smile for the night. "Good night, Stephen. Good seeing
you again. Good night, Lance." And with that, she turned and left, walking
away from us and towards her bedroom.
Lance and I sat there for a few seconds, bathed in embarrassed silence. We
had been careless, caught by one of his parents--and thankfully, the one
who knew about us. Lance finally looked back at me with a sheepish look on
his face..
"It was a nice kiss," he said with a laugh. "Before we were interrupted..."
Lance let go of my hand, pulled himself off the bed and began to walk
towards the door. "I should get to my room before anything else happens
here."
I nodded in agreement, even though I didn't want him to leave. "I
know...anyways, I'm sure gonna miss you," I sighed, allowing my eyes to
widen into a puppy dog look.
"That's my look your stealing there, Stephen," Lance remarked, rolling his
eyes good naturedly. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, before
speaking again. "I'm gonna miss you too, Stephen..especially when I know
that you're only a room away..."
An idea popped into my mind as he said this. "Wait," I ordered Lance,
holding my finger up. I turned to my suitcase, unzipped it and began to
rummage through the mess inside of it. I found my journal and flipped
through the pages until I found what I was looking for. "Here," I said to
Lance, as I got off the bed. "Keep this next to you. That way I'll be
watching your every move." I handed him the photograph that Britney had
taken of us in Los Angeles.
His green eyes lit up as they skimmed the picture over. "Thanks, Stephen,"
he said with a smile. "You'll be the last thing I see when I go to sleep
and the first thing I see when I wake up." He reached out to touch my cheek
once more, a bit of sadness in his eyes as he stared at me.
"Yeah, it'll be like a nightmare," I deadpanned, causing Lance to let out a
genuine laugh for the first time that night.
"You..." Lance trailed off as he shook his head at me. He looked over his
shoulder once more to make sure that no one was watching us, leaned over
and placed a quick kiss on my lips. "Good night, Stephen...sleep well..."
"Night, Lance...see you tomorrow," I managed to breathe before he turned
around and headed for his room. Standing in my doorway, I watched Lance
walk to his door and open it up. But before he disappeared into the room,
he turned back to me, a sleepy grin on his face as he blew me a kiss. I
smiled, blew one back and then closed my door, opting to keep that memory
of my boyfriend fresh in my head.
Chapter 41
A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
The mind works in mysterious ways. That night, as I attempted to sleep, I
could have sworn that Lance's arms were wrapped around me. I felt
them. Encircling my body, holding me close to him. But when I would wake
up, I'd look around and see no one lying in the bed, except for me. I had
waken up around thirty times that night. Sometimes I would wake up because
thoughts of my mother would be nagging me. Or I would lie there and think
of Lance. And sometimes, I just couldn't breathe, thanks to the hot, muggy
Mississippi night air that floated through the open windows.
I tossed and turned in my bed, finally falling asleep around five-thirty,
just as the sun began climbing over the horizon. It figures, I thought as
my heavy eyelids began to shut the world out around me. It seemed like only
minutes had passed when my bladder suddenly woke me up, begging for me to
go to the bathroom.
`No. I won't go,' I thought to myself. `I just fell asleep.'
`Oh, so you want to pee in the Bass's guest bed? Smooth move there,
Peterson,' another voice shot back. `Go right ahead and see how much
they'll like you then. Try it--I dare you.'
`Shut up,' the other voice volleyed back. `Just shut up.'
It was like that episode of The Simpsons. Where Bart has to go to the
bathroom, and in his dream, they start shouting, "Go Go Go--P P P!!!"
That's what the voice in my head started chanting, only worsening the
cramps that were forming in my lower abdomen. I knew when I was
beaten. Grumbling, I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed and
began the somewhat painful walk to the bathroom.
As I walked into the hall, I noticed that Lance's bedroom door was still
closed. Inwardly, it killed me to know that the man I loved was only a
couple of feet away from me. I shrugged that unpleasant feeling off and
walked into the bathroom (I had noticed it as Lance and I walked up the
stairs last night), did my business and walked back out. As I headed back
to my room, I heard voices floating up the staircase...somewhat angry
voices of a man and a woman...
"...I still don't understand why James would bring that guy home with
him. It doesn't make sense...Diane...is there something going on that
you're not telling me?"
I stood there as my mind began to move into gear. It was Lance's father, no
doubt. And they were talking about us. I continued to stand there, waiting
for Diane's answer.
"Jim...I told you...nothing is wrong...okay? Just leave me alone. Please?
Lance just wanted to bring a friend home with him, that's all."
"Diane, it's not like James. I talked to him one night when he was on tour,
and he sounded strange."
"That's because you were grilling the poor boy about his love life. You
were relentless, Jim. You were giving him the third degree," Diane shot
back, her voice growing more intense with every word.
"Can't a father ask his only son about the women he's dating? I have a
right to know! He's my son too, Diane. Just because you used to go on tour
with him, doesn't mean that you're the only one who has access to his
life. I'm his father--"
"Jim, he's twenty-one years old! Just leave Lance alone already! Please,
ever since I've come back from L.A, you've never let the subject drop!"
Feeling horribly guilty at eavesdropping on their conversation, I slowly
began to creep back to my room. But not before hearing a voice from in back
of me.
"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Peterson? Hmmm?" Recognizing
Lance's voice, I spun around and smiled at him, not able to control the
happiness that was breaking through on my face.
"Back to bed," I said, as Lance walked over to greet me with a quick good
morning kiss.
"Lazy," Lance shot back, giving me a mock sneer, before his lips relaxed
into a smile. "It's already eleven a.m. I don't want my parents thinking
that you're some kind of bum, now do I?"
"It's already eleven?" I asked in surprise, feeling myself wake up more and
more as the seconds passed by. Lance noticed my expression and peered at me
with concerned eyes.
"Have a rough night?"
"Yeah...I don't think I'm used to the heat around here...I kept waking up,
like, every fifteen minutes or so. I think I got around two hours of sleep,
if I was lucky," I said while punctuating my statement with a loud yawn.
"Awww, poor baby," Lance murmured, as he reached up and traced the outline
of my lips. "I got to sleep just fine last night. Thanks for the picture,"
he added mischievously, his eyes lighting up.
"I don't think I want the picture back," I said dryly as I turned back to
my room. "I think I'm gonna take a shower. Is that okay with you?"
Lance nodded. "I'd much rather be in the shower with you, but seeing that
were in the same house as my parents, I *don't * think that's such a hot
idea," Lance laughed, heading back to his room. "Just let me know when
you're done, okay Stephen?" I answered him with a nod as I headed back to
my room, to get myself ready for the day ahead.
After I had washed, I stepped out of the shower, my eyes drifted to a
package of gauze and some medical tape sitting on the counter of the
sink. A small note was lying on top of the items: `S.' it read, `Thought
you might need this for your hand. I would have stayed around to help,
but...you know how I get when I'm around you. *smile*. I'll see you in a
few--Love, L.' I smiled at my boyfriend's thoughtfulness, as I dried my
hair with a towel.
As I began to shave, my mind reeled itself back to the argument that I had
overheard that morning. Lance's father *knew* that something weird was
going on with his only son. He had his suspicions--and despite the fact
that Jim had been nice to me the night before, he was also wondering what
the hell I was doing in the Bass household. And to be perfectly honest with
you, if I were Lance's father, I wouldn't have understood what I was doing
there either. To Jim, I was a complete stranger. Someone who just waltzed
into his family's life and was now sleeping in their guest bedroom. On
other nights, I was sleeping with their son, but that was a different story
altogether in itself.
When I finished shaving, I stared at myself in the mirror. On the outside,
I looked like any other normal 21 year old male that you would have
encountered on the street. I never thought I was particularly handsome or
particularly ugly either. I was taller than Lance with brown hair and brown
eyes. I was thin, but not too skinny or too fat either. Nothing to write
home about. But there was something that Lance obviously found appealing
about me.
And then I stared at myself for a few more minutes. I wondered if Lance's
father could tell that I was gay? I wondered if he could tell if his son
was gay? Only my family and the guys in `N Sync knew about my sexuality. I
had never chosen to out myself to my classmates back home, mainly because
no one there had caught my eye. I wondered why I had chosen to act on my
feelings once I saw Lance? It was weird. Why Lance? Was it because he was
famous? Or was it because he was the first person who ever made me feel
alive and happy and content with myself? No one had ever made me feel the
way Lance did.
And no one had ever supported me the way Lance did either, I thought, as I
closed the toilet seat and sat down on it. I began to fix up my
still-injured hand and I smiled as I did this. Lance was so
thoughtful...caring...he was wonderful. I couldn't have dreamt a better
boyfriend up.
And now I was in the Bass's residence...because of Lance. Because he wanted
to help me out. And I knew Lance was scared to tell his father--he had seen
too much shit with my mother not to be scared. My mother was the complete
worst nightmare package. But then you had my aunt and uncle, who had
accepted me the way I was...two extremes. Then there was Cynthia, I thought
with a smile, but Cynthia would have accepted a one handed, blind,
hard-of-hearing monkey--that's how open Cynthia was.
Somehow it wasn't fair that there was a good possibility that Lance could
ruin his relationship with his father because of me. He was only trying to
help me out because he loved me. And yes, I felt confident enough to say
that Lance loved me. We had been through way too much together, for me not
to believe that we weren't in love. *It wasn't fair*. Just because we
weren't a "normal" (and I use that term very loosely) couple. Who was
anyone to say that we shouldn't be together? I mean, we were happy...wasn't
that enough? My mind thought once more of my mother...
But then, I thought as I stepped out into the hallway, sometimes, life
wasn't fair. Life wasn't meant to be fair.
A little while later, when Lance and I walked into the kitchen, I noticed
an older looking blonde female sitting at the table. She was talking in a
rather animated manner to Diane, until she noticed that her brother was
walking into the kitchen.
"Lance!!!!" she screamed, knocking the chair from underneath her down in
her mad pursuit to hug her brother. "I've missed you so much!!!" The
excited girl nearly toppled him over as she hung onto him. Lance let out an
excited laugh, clearly happy to see her again. By the process of
elimination, I figured that the girl had to be his sister, Stacey.
"Geez, Stace--kill me here, why don't you!?!?" Lance managed to say before
he finally untangled himself from her grip and looked at her with a
smile. "I'm guessing you missed me?"
"Missed your ugly face? No. Everywhere I go, I see your face. Geez,
Lance--Ford and me can't even go into a McDonald's without seeing you,"
Stacey laughed. "But missed you? Yes. A lot. I missed my baby brother," she
cooed as she reached out and pinched his cheek. Realizing that there was
someone else standing there in the kitchen with her family, Stacey turned
to me. "And you must be Stephen? Right?"
I stared at Stacey in surprise as she reached out and shook my
hand. "Uhhh...yeah.." I managed to say, as I returned her handshake. "How'd
you know?"
She gave me a charming grin, one that mirrored one of Lance's. "I do talk
to my mama, you know," Stacey laughed cheerfully, as she swung her head
back to look at Diane, her blonde hair flying out as she did that. "And she
told me that one of Lance's friends had come home with him...so I'm
guessing that it was you." She switched her gaze back over to her
brother. "Unless you have some other friend named Stephen that you're
hiding from me."
"No..." Lance trailed off, as the happy excited look that had prevailed on
his face, suddenly disappeared into thin air. I could practically read his
mind: `Great, another person to find out.' He abruptly turned away from
Stacey and headed towards the refrigerator. His sister watched him, an odd
look forming on her face at his behavior as she turned back to me.
"So Stephen, what brings you down to Mississippi?" Stacey asked me politely
as she picked up the topped over kitchen chair and sat back in it. As
Lance's sister spoke, I noticed that her voice had that familiar southern
accent dotting it, as did everyone else's around here. Even Lance's
southern accent had reappeared again...I felt like an outsider.
"Well...I became friends with Lance on the tour," I began, my face turning
warm with every word I spoke. "And we kinda hung out all the time, so I
just decided to come on down here with him. I've never been to Mississippi
before, so...." I trailed off, knowing my explanation sounded lame. Diane
looked down at the cup of coffee that she held in her hands, and I heard
Lance mutter something under his breath while he was rummaging around in
the fridge. But it must have sounded plausible to Stacey, because all she
did was give me a pretty smile and a nod.
As I awkwardly stood there in the middle of the Bass's kitchen, trying to
explain my existence, the back door swung open and Lance's father walked
through it, looking exhausted.
"Jesus, I think it gets hotter and hotter here...those damn mosquitoes
never stop biting," Jim muttered, while scratching his arm. He looked at
his family around the kitchen, and his eyes finally rested on me.
`Hello, Stephen," Jim greeted me. "How are you doing this morning?"
"Fine," I answered. As the time passed, I felt more and more uncomfortable
in the Bass's residence. I kept thinking, `Lance--get it over with. Tell
them. It'll be better for both of us.' I stopped myself. Had my thinking
been rendered stupid by the heat? Or was I just going insane? As I lost
myself in my thoughts once more, I noticed that Jim had walked over to
Lance and gently tapped him on his shoulder.
"Hey James?" Lost in *his* own world, Lance practically jumped five feet
into the air, almost knocking the carton of milk out of his hand.
"What?!?" Lance practically screamed at his father, as he wiped the sweat
that was forming on his brow with the back of his hand. He calmed down once
he realized that his entire family and me, were staring at him as though he
had gone off the deep end. Lance took a deep breath and then gave us all a
shaky smile. "I mean, what?"
"I just was wondering if you knew where one of your old fishing poles
was. I needed to get something from in back of the shed, and that was the
only thing I could think of long enough to reach it," Jim explained, trying
to ignore his son's odd behavior.
"Oh. It's upstairs in my room--I think it's under my bed," Lance told him,
placing the milk carton back on a shelf.
"Thanks, James." And with that, Jim left the room and headed upstairs,
while Lance resumed his poking around in the refrigerator.
"Lance?" Stacey called from her seat at the table. My boyfriend looked up
from the refrigerator once more, trying to hold back the expression of
agitation that was about to form on his face as he turned towards his
sister.
"What, Stace?" he asked, sounding much calmer than he looked. By the look
on his face, I swear to God that Lance was about to snap from all the
pressure.
"Are you okay?" she asked a bit apprehensively, not wanting to get yelled
at like her father did. "You just seem a little on edge there." I saw Lance
roll his eyes at her question. Just as he was about to answer her with some
sort of sarcastic retort, we heard Jim yell from upstairs.
"James? I can't find it--would you mind coming up here and helping me look
for it?" A pause. "And tell Stephen to come up here too." Lance and I
looked at each other, confusion in both of our eyes. I could understand why
Jim would want Lance up there, but me? I had no idea where a fishing pole
would be in this house. Despite my inner musings, Lance just shrugged and
closed the refrigerator door.
"I'll be back down," Lance told Stacey and Diane, who were looking at each
other strangely, puzzled by Jim's request as well. "Come on,
Stephen...let's go help my father out." Lance and I silently walked into
the living room, and as we headed up the staircase together, I looked over
at Lance. He looked so sad, I thought, wanting to reach out and hold
him. His eyes were dull...flat...he looked tired...he looked as though he
was completely fed up with his life. I couldn't blame him. It seemed as
though everything was crashing down on us. Lance caught me looking at him
and gave me a tired smile.
"You okay?" he asked me softly. I nodded.
"I'm fine...but I'm worried about you," I responded. "You're not looking so
hot today."
"Thanks, Stephen--I'll get you for that later." Lance gave me a
half-hearted smile as he attempted to sound like his old self once
more. But it didn't work. He wasn't fooling anyone--least of all me. I
could tell that his mind was too preoccupied with other things.
Lance and I finally reached his bedroom, only to see the door partially
open. And as we were about to walk into the bedroom, one of those strange
feelings came over me again. I felt funny--it was like when I was a child
and I tried to warn my father not to go to work. Or when Lance was going on
stage, because something deep inside of me knew that he was going to fall
from the strings. I wanted to hold Lance back and tell him that everything
was going to be okay. But I couldn't...he had already pushed open the door
and walked into his bedroom. I had no choice but to follow him into the
room.
Suddenly, Lance stopped dead in his tracks and I watched as all of the
color drained from his face. His green eyes were fixed straight ahead,
looking at his father, who was sitting on his bed. Jim was staring at
something in his hands, with a confused and angry look on his face. As my
eyes focused on the object, I felt my heart stop beating. My mouth went dry
and I swear to God, I was going to die right there on the spot.
"Care to explain what this is, James?" Jim asked his son. His voice was
shaking, as were his hands, as he held up the Polaroid of Lance and I.
Chapter 42
Love/Hate Reaction
For a second, time had stopped. I don't know how long Lance and I stood
there, unable to move or speak. All I could think, was `Shit...shit, shit,
shit. How could Lance be so stupid?' Leaving the photo of us lying around
for anyone to see...but then, it was my fault as well. I had given it to
him. We hadn't expect Jim to go into his son's bedroom and look at it...
But he had. And now he knew. It would finally be out in the open...as much
as I wanted to be relieved, I couldn't. There was too much tension in that
air to be relieved.
"What are you doing looking at my personal belongings?" Lance suddenly
yelled, waking up from his daze. He strode towards his father and yanked
the photo out of his father's hands. Jim didn't seemed fazed by this. He
had already seen the picture. Nothing could take that away. He just stared
at his son and a funny look passed over his features.
"Explain what I just saw in that photo, James....please," Jim asked his
son, his voice simple with questioning. His eyes shifted and stared at me
for a couple of seconds, before moving back to his son. Lance stood there
as though he was a statue, not able to speak. I could see the gears turning
in his mind. And then he finally spoke.
"Dad...I...I'm gay..." Lance finally whispered. His words were soft and
quiet and barely audible to our ears. "S-S-Stephen..." he turned and looked
at me, the emotions of how he felt at that moment swimming around in his
beautiful eyes. I could tell he was petrified...but that he still loved me,
no matter what would happen at that moment. I wanted to reach out and grab
for his hand, but I couldn't. I was frozen to my spot as well, unable to
move. Plus, I didn't want to agitate Jim any more than he probably was
already.
"Stephen is my boyfriend," Lance announced. This time his voice was clearer
and stronger. The fear in his eyes faded away, as Lance stared at his
father with almost an almost defiant gaze. "That's why I brought him here
with me. I wanted you to meet him. I love him."
Jim just continued to sit there on Lance's bed, no expression appearing on
his face at his son's confession. I felt my blood turn cold as ice. I
silently began to pray that Jim wouldn't freak out, go insane like my
mother. Lance didn't need that. No one did. I wouldn't wish what I had
experienced on my worst enemy. Jim just kept switching his gaze from Lance
and then to me...I wasn't sure what that man was thinking, and to be honest
with you, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.
The silence was killing us and looking at Lance, I could tell that he
couldn't take it anymore. "Dad...please say something," Lance said, his
green eyes pleading with his father. "Please."
Jim looked at Lance, his face still void of any emotion. He looked as
though he was gathering his thoughts, and finally he stood up from his seat
on Lance's bed.
"James...I don't know what to say to you..." Jim spoke quietly. "I really
don't. I don't hate you but..." All Jim did was shake his head in
disbelief, gave his son another expressionless look and with that,
wordlessly left the room, leaving Lance and I alone once again.
His reaction hadn't been what I was expecting. Jim hadn't yelled at Lance,
but he hadn't been thrilled about it either. I couldn't blame him--how
would you feel if you found out your son was gay via a Polaroid photo? I
turned to Lance, only to see that he had tears streaming down his face.
"Stephen...he hates me," Lance managed to say through his tears. "I can
tell....he didn't want anything to do with me." He reached out for me, his
arms open and I met him halfway, wrapping my arms around his body, and
pulling him close to me. I could feel his the rapidness of his heart
beating through our clothes, and when I pulled my head back to look at him,
my heart nearly broke. The word sad didn't even describe the look on his
face--he looked as though he had been emotionally torn apart and pulled
through the wringer. I just wanted everything to be okay, but then, we
couldn't have everything we wanted...
"No he doesn't," I whispered, kissing the top of his head. "He's just
shocked, Lance...he doesn't hate you...how could anyone hate you?" I was
trying my best to soothe him and judging by the shaky semi-smile that broke
out on his lips, I had been a little successful.
"Stephen...no matter what my father says, I still love you," Lance
whispered, running a finger down my cheek, before placing a brief kiss on
my lips. "Always, I promise..."
"What the hell is going on?" The sudden intuition of a harsh female voice
jolted Lance and I back to life. We turned our heads to see Stacey standing
in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a clearly horrified look on her
face.
"Oh my God," Lance croaked out, his face draining of all its color once
more. Later when we talked, Lance had told me he didn't even remember
saying anything when he saw his angry sister appear. He had been too
shocked. But I did. I remembered feeling his body stiffen in my arms, and
the way his body temperature suddenly seemed to drop.
"Lance?" she asked, shaking her head at the sight of us. "What--what--what
was that?"
"How long have you been watching us?" Lance asked her, disentangling
himself from my arms, as he strode over to her. "Goddamn it, Stacey, do you
always sneak up on people and watch them?"
"Well you and *him*--" Her voice had come out sneering. "Are just standing
there--kissing." Her face twisted into a disgusted look as her mind
recalled the image of Lance and I together. "Lance....are you gay?"
"Yes, Stacey--I am," Lance shot back, anger coursing through his
voice. "I'm gay. And Stephen--" He pointed at me. "--Is my boyfriend. Do
you have a problem with that?"
"Well, what do you think? That's disgusting, Lance--didn't all that time in
the church tell you anything? For God's sake, homosexuals burn in hell, you
know that. How did mom and dad raise you?" she spat out, her pale face
flushing as her anger rose. I will never forget the look of hurt and utter
disbelief that appeared on Lance's face just then. His own sister was
against him. Lance's fists clutched at his sides and an intense shade of
red began working it's way up the side of his neck.
"You know what? Fuck you, Stacey. *Fuck you*. It's not like you're such a
holy roller yourself," Lance screamed back at her. "Where the hell do you
get the right to judge people?"
"ME? You have some nerve asking *me* that. I can't believe that you would
even have the balls to bring him home," Stacey hollered back. "How dare
you--"
"Stacey, stop it."
The three of us turned to face Jim, who had come out of the bedroom that he
and Diane shared. The look on his face was one of dead seriousness as he
observed his two children squared off in the middle of the hallway. Stacey
turned to him, her mouth gaping open at her father's disapproval of her.
"Dad, it's the truth--" Stacey began to argue, but Jim cut her off,
stopping her by holding up his hand.
"I don't want to ever hear you talk to your brother like that again. I
don't care how old you are--you are in my house, under my roof. Go back
downstairs--I want to talk to your brother," Jim ordered her sternly, his
eyebrows dipping into a frown.
With one more glare at Lance, Stacey huffed down the steps, each footstep
pounding into the carpet underneath. I was surprised that she didn't go
crashing through the floor. It would serve her right, I thought with some
satisfaction. My satisfied facade faded, as Jim walked over to his son, who
was panting from all of the yelling that he had just done.
"James, I'd like to speak to you. In private," Jim said quietly, before
turning back to the bedroom and walking into it. Lance turned to me
briefly, and for that brief second, I could see all of the emotions he was
feeling. Hurt. Fear. Love. It was amazing how you could feel all of those
different things at one time. But I knew it was possible, because I had
been there before. I silently nodded towards Lance, letting him know that I
was with him in spirit, as he turned away from me. I watched him disappear
into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
There was no sense of standing around in the hallway, so I slowly headed
back to my room. When I walked back inside, I realized that I was
shaking. Stacey's words had, quite honestly, shocked me beyond belief. I
hadn't expected her to bring up the subject of religion into the fray--how
insensitive could one person be, I asked myself. Couldn't she see Lance was
having a hard enough time as it is, without being told that he would burn
in hell? As I sat back down on my bed, I placed my head in my hands. I was
nervous. Restless. I couldn't sit down. I walked over to the open window
and felt the hot, muggy breeze blow over me. It didn't help one bit. In
fact, the humid air of Mississippi made me even more agitated, and I walked
away from the window in disgust.
I began to nervously pace around the room. What was Jim saying to Lance
now? Was he going to disown him, like my mother had done? Or did he agree
with Stacey on the idea that Lance had committed a sin...the questions were
driving me absolutely insane with worry.
The clock on the wall ticked away happily, as each second that passed was
like driving a nail into my chest. I began imagining as many worse case
scenarios as I possibly could. Lance would be disowned by his father. Diane
would finally crack and agree with him. Stacey was already against
Lance. He would have no family. Lance would get angry at me, realize he
really was straight and leave me for the approval of his parents. Looking
back on the theory, I wondered if I had really gone insane at that moment.
I continued my pacing and just as I felt as though I was about to vomit,
the door to my room opened. I looked up to see Lance's father standing
there, looking at me with an inquisitive expression on his face.
"Mind if I come in?" Jim asked me. His manner was polite, although I could
tell that he had an good amount of issues on his mind.
"Sure--it's your house, isn't it?" I said lightly, trying to make myself
sound like I didn't have a rock knocking a hole in my stomach. I walked
back over to the bed and sat on it, and Jim took a seat next to me. For a
second, he just sat there, not saying a word, opting to stare at his hands
instead. I knew that he wanted to say something--but I'm not sure what
exactly. I hoped that it would be good.
Finally, Jim began to speak. "Look...Stephen....I wasn't exactly expecting
to speak to my son's...boyfriend," he said slowly, managing to get over the
word, with a decent amount of discomfort on his face. "I want you to know
that I don't hate you. I don't." I let out a small sigh of relief, even
though I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet. I knew that Jim had to plenty
more to say and I was right.
"I'm not going to mince words with you--I really don't approve of my son
being a homosexual. It's very hard for me to accept the fact that he's with
another man...very hard. When I saw the picture, I was in complete shock."
He briefly closed his eyes, and then opened his eyes once more.
"But when I heard my daughter yelling those things at James, I knew that I
couldn't hate my son--or you for that matter. I apologize for her
behavior--it's just that sometimes...Stacey can take things very
seriously. She loves her brother dearly." He paused once again to
swallow. "But when I heard her say those awful things, I couldn't just
stand there and watch her say that. I still love my son--he's James--he
always will be. And a thing such as his sexual preference shouldn't
matter..." His voice was a bit uncertain, but firm. I continued to sit
there wordlessly, taking in Jim's words. I was still unclear on how he was
reacting to Lance and I. I knew that he loved his son...
Jim noticed my silence and gave me a shaky smile. "Stephen, I was talking
to James...and he spoke a great deal about you. It's quite clear to me that
he cares for you...more than anyone else he's dated in his life." Another
smile, which helped soothe my nervous soul a little more. "I would have
major objections against the two of you if I thought that you weren't
serious about each other. But it's clear that he's...he's..." Jim trailed
off and then took a deep breath. "That James is in love with you. And I'm
not one to ruin a relationship--my son is grown up. He can make his own
decisions, and this is one of them."
Something in his words had touched me. He didn't hate me. And it seemed as
though he wasn't going to disown Lance. "Mr. Bass--" I slowly began,
finally moving my lips to speak. But Jim wouldn't let me. He cut me off
with a wave of his hand.
"James has also told me about your troubles at home--I'm very sorry to hear
what your mother did," he said a bit stiffly. "No mother has the right to
treat their child that way--I don't mean to speak ill of the deceased, but
that was a terrible thing for her to do to you, Stephen. And I don't want
to treat James that way. He doesn't deserve it--no one does." And with
that, Jim looked at me and I swear for a second, I saw tears welling in his
eyes. But then they disappeared and another soft smile appeared on his
face. "Now you can speak," he said with a slight laugh. "I'm sorry I cut
you off before, but I needed to say that before I forgot it."
I returned his laugh and then folded my hands together, so that they
wouldn't shake too badly. I was happy...but I was also shaken up inside. It
seemed as though Jim didn't hate me. In fact, he sympathized with
me. "Mr. Bass--" I began once more, only to have him cut me off.
"Call me Jim," he said, with a smile. "It seems that you'll be here for
awhile...be comfortable. No formalities here." Upon hearing that, every
muscle in my body relaxed a little bit more and I took a deep breath.
"Okay...Jim...well, thank you for your kind words about my mother. You
didn't have to say those things, and I do appreciate them." I looked at
Lance's father and he nodded at me to continue. "I want to thank you for
not hating La--er, James--and for not hating me. I was worried most about
that--and I was willing to leave your son if that was the case. I want you
to know that I do love your son...I would do anything for him. I care for
him," I said. Simple words said it best.
Jim nodded at me. "I understand...that's a rather brave thing, putting
someone's happiness first," he noted, staring at me with impressed eyes.
"That's because La--James," I corrected myself again. "Has always put my
happiness first. I've never met a more caring person in my life. You've
raised him well--he's a wonderful person and I'm proud to have someone like
that in my life." The words I spoke were true. No need for lies...I spoke
what I felt from my heart.
Jim smiled at my comments and I must have won some part of him over with my
truthfulness. "Thank you Stephen--that was very nice of you to say. You've
seem to have brought a lot of happiness into my son's life--and I have to
thank you for that. Every father wants to see his son happy--and if it
happens to be with someone of the same sex--" He paused once more, before
continuing. "Then so be it. I'm not one to play God here."
To my horror, I felt tears of happiness prick behind my eyelids. Lance's
father had accepted me. He didn't hate me. He didn't blame me for his son's
sexuality. And he didn't seem to think that we were going to burn in
hell. That was a plus, I thought to myself as I tried to hide a smile. I
blinked a couple of times, to brush the tears away, before looking at
Lance's father once more.
"Thank you Jim" I said quietly. "You don't know how much I appreciate you
and your wife for your kindness towards Lance and I."
Jim nodded. "He's my son," he said wistfully. "You just can't stop loving
someone...and I'll always love James." With that he stood up from his place
on the bed and looked down at me. "Well, Stephen--what do you say we go see
how James is doing?"
I nodded and this time, I didn't even bother to hide the smile that formed
on my lips. I wanted to see Lance more than ever now. "I'd love that," I
told him honestly, as we walked out of the room together.
So that's it for this part....I'm shooting for another installment out
before I go back to the drudgery of school once more. And then after school
starts, well--just pray for me, okay? =)
That's all for now...remember, e-mail is always open to comments and
criticisms at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com... I eagerly wait for your
reply....thanks for reading....love, Gabriella....